The sound of a car pulling into the gas station yanks me out of my fantasy and has my eyes darting to the window.
Ugh, it’s just a sedan.
When the car comes to a stop right outside the store, I see the four men sitting inside, and the sight of them has my heart rate setting off at a crazy pace.
Shoot.
I don’t recognize them, and it always makes me more nervous dealing with strangers than regulars.
While the driver stays in the car, the other three get out. One lights a cigarette and walks toward the roadside, glancing up and down.
The tiny hairs on the back of my neck rise, and my breathing slows down when only two of the men come into the store.
They glance around, and one hangs back near the counter, his eyes scanning over me, while the other walks toward the ATM in the corner.
The man closest to me pulls a gun out from behind his back and looks me dead in the eye as he orders, “Stay right there and don’t do anything stupid.”
Oh God.
I nod quickly before ducking my head low and wrapping my arms around my middle.
Shock shudders through me as he keeps the gun trained on me while the other man does something by the ATM. Suddenly,they hurry out of the store, and before I know what’s happening, there’s a loud blast and I’m slammed against the shelves behind me.
My body drops to the floor while my ears ring and pain blossoms at the back of my head.
I’m completely disoriented as I’m grabbed by my arm and hauled to my feet. When the man shouts in my face, I struggle to make out his words.
I’m yanked out from behind the counter and shoved toward the ATM that’s been blown open, cash lying scattered all over the floor, while smoke quickly fills the air.
I cough, and when I just stand and stare at the destruction, something connects with the side of my head and cheek, making me topple over and fall between the dollar bills.
“I said pick up the fucking money and load it into the bag,” one of the men shouts, my hearing finally returning.
Dazed and shocked, I move onto my knees and begin to gather the money.
Only then does a trembling start deep in my bones, and intense fear strikes hard. I taste something coppery, and my tongue feels numb.
“Faster!” One of the men, who’s standing outside, shouts. “There’s a car coming.”
“You heard him,” the one closest to me snaps while he shoves at my hip with his shoe. “Get all the money in the bag now!”
“Fuck,” the one standing by the door grumbles. “I’ll deal with whoever it is.”
All of a sudden, there are two gunshots, and my heart leaps up to my throat.
My fear turns to terror as I swing around onto my butt and scramble backward while shaking my head.
The next instant, Mr. Oliveira appears, stalking toward the man who’s holding the bag open while firing his gun at the one who manhandled and hit me.
My eyes are wide as saucers, and my jaw slack as Mr. Oliveira trains his weapon on the last robber, who suddenly moves toward me. I let out a shriek and dart to the side, knocking into a row of shelves, which has products falling over me.
Mr. Oliveira shoots the robber while dashing toward me, and he catches a jar right above my head. As he crouches in front of me, he sets the jar down on the floor before cupping my cheek.
“Are you okay?”
I’m in too much shock to react and can only stare at the man I’ve been looking forward to seeing tonight.
Mr. Oliveira gently takes hold of my arm and pulls me to my feet. He tucks his gun away, then proceeds to check my body for any injuries before he focuses on the side of my head.
